


Restraint

by thedoctorwatcheshetalia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cardverse, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Something that's not omegaverse for once
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:18:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8569354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedoctorwatcheshetalia/pseuds/thedoctorwatcheshetalia
Summary: Arthur goes to a Summer Festival for the first time. Who better than a handsome blue-eyed man to take him there?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samsquared](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samsquared/gifts).



> For the gorgeous Sam, who is deserving of this and infinite more gift-fics. Thank you so much for sticking around when I needed you the most, you're the best wife anyone could ask for <3 
> 
> That being said, this is my half of an exchange from months ago. "Arthur and Alfred go to a summer festival" was the prompt, but I squeezed in some of Sam's favorites: Alfred with a southern accent and cardverse. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“A rose for his majesty?”

Arthur blinked. A rush of sunlight filtered into his eyes as he craned his head up from his book. It startled him. He hadn’t expected to be disturbed- or rather, he knew he wouldn’t be approached if he took up reading in his particular area in the garden. The staff had become well-acquainted with it by now, they knew not to busy him with trivial things… or so he’d assumed.

“Pardon?”

“A rose.” The man before him repeated, lips quirking up in a warm smile, “They just came in bloom, heard ‘round that you liked roses.”

How odd. Arthur found it hard to formulate words as a plump, fresh-petaled rose was placed in the groove that parted through his book. His eyes snapped back up to find the man grinning, dusting the dirt off his hands onto his sullied trousers.

“And who might you be?”

“… New hire, they thought you could use a gardener- and you could! Half the roses were dyin’ something horrible when I showed up last week. This is the fruit of my labor.” He gestured to the rose and Arthur let his finger trace over the velvet petals.

“I suppose you’ll be wanting a tip, I don’t have any coins on me at the moment-”

“Nah, just a smile would do.”

The gardener punctuated that with a wide grin, and Arthur found it hard to follow suit. He was far too engrossed in the sound of that voice- a rich accent, a southern lilt it seemed to be. Perhaps he was from the country? Yes, now that he paid attention, his skin was rather bronzed… 

“Or not, I mean, you can be sour if you want to.”

Arthur hadn’t realized he had a light scowl on his lips until the comment splashed him like freezing water. He recoiled.

“I- I beg your pardon!”

“Name’s Alfred, by the way, if you wanted to know.” A wink and a laugh later, this _Alfred_ was gone, and Arthur fumed at the sheer impertinence, peering back into his book to search for the place he’d left off.

He gingerly moved the rose out of the way. 

* * *

The green eyes boring into him prompted Arthur’s shift in his seat, the curve of his back deepening as he stretched out to sit up straighter.

“Slouching isn’t very royal.” the Queen chided, to which Arthur’s father nodded in silent agreement as he himself straightened up a bit.

“Sorry.” Was Arthur’s response. 

“Don’t mumble.”

“Sorry!” Arthur echoed, louder this time. Perhaps there was a bit of anger in his voice. His mother’s eyes widened to saucers. 

“A prince keeps his temper, Arthur!”

Arthur bit back a groan, focusing his piercing green gaze into his plate. 

His brothers were out hunting. Had they been sitting at the table with him, they would have dishes crafted to tasty perfection by their cook. Arthur, instead, stared down at a plate sporting the bare minimum. Everything he needed to survive, a daily serving suggested by their court physician.

He stabbed it with his fork, scooping whatever lodged itself onto the utensil into his mouth before his mother could protest.

His parents had grown old to Arthur’s ways now. It was unfair, yes. Arthur never asked to be born with the mark of the queen. He never asked to be a crown prince, and he certainly never wanted a life this sheltered. What was there to do but treat him like the shard of glass he was?

Arthur was to be promised to the coming king as someone perfect and pure.

Arthur was neither of those.

He stabbed his food yet again.

“What’s plaguing you?” His mother sighed. Arthur decided his entire life was a unique sort of plague, but that comment would only earn him more scoldings.

Instead, he decided to put his mind at ease from what had been haunting his thoughts all week.

“You hired a gardener?”

“Gardener?” Apparently not. Arthur’s mother chewed on the thought, glancing up with brows furrowed, “No, I thought you took care of the flowers.”

“I thought so too,” Arthur mumbled, chewing his lip absentmindedly as he held the glass of wine to his lips.

His mother made an annoyed noise, “Arthur.”

“I know.” Arthur sighed, _“Don’t mumble.”_

* * *

“You’re not a gardener.”

Alfred paused. He’d been in the process of hiking up to Arthur’s newly-favored spot, a shady, breezy place beneath a tree on a tiny hill. Arthur liked to think he was avoiding Alfred with all his sudden changes and decisions to take up reading in places that never would’ve crossed his mind before. He supposed it was a little game of theirs. He never told Alfred where he’d be next, Alfred just seemed to _know._

It was hide and seek to him, something apparent by the playful grin on Alfred’s face as he approached Arthur’s new whereabouts for the fourth time that week. Arthur wanted to pretend he hadn’t been waiting for Alfred to show up- but the thought had been eating at him for days now, and it seemed to slip out from his lips at the first sight of those blue eyes.

“Well, it’s about time you figured out.” Was the snide reply, “Gardeners don’t usually have rock-hard abs.”

“Abs?” Arthur made a scene of squinting his eyes over Alfred’s standing form. He could see the light outline of what laid behind his shirt, but he wasn’t going to let Alfred know that. “Oh, now that you mention them, I suppose they’re in there somewhere.”

“Aw, you think you’re so funny.”

Alfred was getting closer now and the smug smirk on Arthur’s face melted away. He shifted against the grass, peering into his book like it didn’t bother him as Alfred sank in beside him. His warm hand landed on Arthur’s knee.

Arthur’s response was an almost inaudible gasp, “Get your dirty hands off me!”

Alfred chuckled but his hand didn’t move. It seemed he was stubborn as well as a liar. Arthur learned something new every day.

“And you’re not off the hook so easily. What is your business around the castle anyway?”

After a long pause, Alfred cleared his throat, leaning back against the trunk of the tree as his hand awkwardly fell to the grass.

“Your dad seemed to think I was pretty good at stabbin’. Scooped me right outta the country and put me in chain mail armor.”

“A knight,” Arthur said incredulously. The happenings of the army had never been his strong suit. Though being quite proficient with a sword himself, Arthur found that listening to his father drone on about newly joined knights and fighting techniques put him to sleep faster than ‘manners school’.

“Why were you mucking about my flowers then?” 

Alfred laughed yet again, eyes downcast before they snapped back up to capture Arthur’s gaze, “Saw a pretty thing, gave ‘im a flower, it’s common sense.”

Arthur pursed his lips, fighting off the color flooding to his cheeks, “Well they were _my_ flowers and I’d been treating them just fine, thank you.”

“Yeah, well they were a little dry, nothing this man couldn’t handle.” Alfred punctuated this with a flex of his biceps that Arthur pretended didn’t excite him. Not even a little.

“I’ll have you know, you could be put behind bars if you’re seen talking to me.”

He’d meant it playfully, of course. Arthur hadn’t expected to see blue eyes soften and that warm body shift closer, shoulders bumping awkwardly as Alfred turned to gaze into Arthur’s eyes.

_Oh._  Arthur furrowed his brows, blinking back down into his book.

“I can handle being behind bars if it means getting another smile out of our solemn prince-”

Arthur frowned instead and Alfred laughed, positioning himself to peer into Arthur’s book.

“I’ve got all day, Artie.”

* * *

They were friends.

Arthur’s toes dug into the blanket beneath them, squeezing back at the fingers that intertwined with his.

Friends held hands, right? 

“You don’t have your book today,” Alfred remarked cheekily as his free hand swept back at his caramel hair.

He’d left his book in his bedroom. Arthur found that as the days went by, it became less and less about cutting time out of his schedule to read. Now he had someone to spend it with- a friend his parents didn’t know about, of course. They’d go to wicked lengths to rip even that away from him.

“I didn’t feel like reading,” Arthur replied simply, breath hitching as Alfred rubbed his knuckles idly with the rough pad of his thumb. “How was practice?”

“Your dad’s a meanie, that’s all I’m saying,” Alfred said with a laugh. Arthur felt himself smiling along before he caught himself and stiffened.

“He’s only trying to make you a better fighter.”

“I know,” Alfred said with a lazy smile. Every cell in Arthur’s body seemed to seize as Alfred took hold of his hand, bringing it up to his lips for a kiss. What was usually a gesture of respect was suddenly… _not._

Arthur snatched his hand back and tucked it into his lap. “You ought to be taught restraint!”

“It was just a tiny lil’ kiss, Arthur.” Alfred chuckled, boring into Arthur with his startlingly blue eyes, “It’s not the worst I can do.”

Arthur took it as his cue to leave, cheeks flushed a bright red as he tore away, practically jumping to his feet and brushing stray bits of grass off his pristine evening wear. “I’d rather go read. Goodbye.”

Alfred balked at the brash honesty but had a smile to hide nevertheless. He chose not to reply as Arthur walked off his tantrum. Instead, he lounged on the blanket and stared at the sky.

* * *

A rock clattered in through his window sill.

Arthur furrowed his brows, shifting in his bed until he was sitting upright and the book in his hands was pressed off to the side. How peculiar- maybe he was just hearing things. 

Perhaps it was wiser to close the window and its curtains now. One never knew the consequences of being vulnerable, never mind the pleasant breeze it brought in. 

Another rock. This one was significantly larger. It barreled through the window and startled the breath out of Arthur, who found himself scrambling backward with an audible gasp. His hand palmed the nightstand in search of a dagger, lips parting for words to find himself rendered speechless.

He steeled himself and inched off the bed, gathering his nightgown into his hands as he peered over the side of the window sill-

To find a certain knight attempting to climb over it.

“A- Alfred?”

“Arthur!” Alfred replied with a grin, not seeming to understand why Arthur was seconds away from driving a blade into his neck. He paused in his movements to enter Arthur’s bedroom, instead gripping the bars of the fencing he’d used to shimmy up there. Arthur let himself be momentarily distracted by the muscles of his arms straining against the hold. He then turned back to those laughing eyes with a glare.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just stab you right here and now.”

The grin faltered, “Well gee, Artie, I ain’t gonna hurt’cha.”

Arthur clenched his jaw, “Get out of my room.”

“I’m not in it, technically.” Alfred responded with a cheeky grin, “Besides, it’d be a milestone for me, takin’ orders from Her Royal Highness.”

“It’s a nightgown.” Arthur muttered, massaging the bridge of his nose, “Every respectable man wears one, and that’s beside the point, get out.”

“Don’t you wanna hear my proposal?”

That’s how Arthur found himself frolicking about in the late hours. With a knight. In his sleeping gown. 

He hadn’t even been given a minute to change- The second he considered a _yes_ , he was whisked into those arms and carried down his balcony, despite his squirming and hissed complaints.

A summer festival.

Arthur had undoubtedly never been to one. It was a festival for peasants, something a refined prince like himself would never get to experience. The weight in his gut crushed him. How would it be? Polished and precise like the parties Arthur had been to? No, but perhaps something exhilarating in its own way. A way Arthur hadn’t experienced… yet.

“You’re always so lonely, Artie, I couldn’t live with myself being at the festival without’cha!”

Arthur swallowed around the lump in his throat, “I- I’m still in my nightgown.”

Alfred’s smile brightened as he paused in his motion of dragging Arthur by the wrist. Realizing they were out in the open, he pulled Arthur into the nearest growth of wild bushes and proceeded to pull Arthur’s gown over his shoulders.

A yelp and a smack later, Arthur’s gown was back in his hands and Alfred narrowed his eyes, an angry red mark prominent on his face.

“Don’t be difficult, Arthur, I have a change of clothes for ya.”

And so Arthur, after doing every taboo thing in his book, undressed in a bush and donned poor-people cotton clothing suspiciously larger in frame.

“Why am I doing this?” He found himself muttering, to which Alfred chirped a response.

“I’m the only friend ya have, Artie, I’m a keeper.”

Well, he supposed that was true.

* * *

Alfred had left him.

Arthur couldn’t have expected someone like Alfred to be at his beck and call, that was a given. What with looks like those, and a personality so outgoing…

Arthur watched almost balefully as Alfred won a girl over with that charming smile of his, a small wink with a grin glittering white.

What an idiot.

It had taken less than ten minutes- _ten_ minutes after Alfred had led Arthur into the festival venue. 

The place was unlike anything Arthur had ever seen. Ballrooms were never this big. The small, four-walled parties he’d been to were pale in comparison to this gigantic, jarring expanse of land, covered in lanterns strung up in every nook and corner. The smell of earth mingled with that of sugary food and a hint of something else he’d be better off not identifying. 

Yes, this was it. This was a summer festival.

Arthur was awestruck, completely and utterly limp to the majesty before him. Oh _stars_ , he’d never seen anything like it, which was why he’d hoped Alfred would be there to steady him. Perhaps even laugh at him a little, telling him everything he’d been missing out on, guiding him through this new experience-

Instead, _poof._ Arthur had turned to find him gone. Words of new discoveries died on his tongue and he’d turned this way and that, eyes panicked as he searched for his knight, suddenly feeling rather vulnerable. 

And yes, he’d found Alfred by a booth, talking up some blonde with a big chest. 

Arthur huffed and tore his gaze back down to his feet, shifting restlessly in the wooden bench he’d taken to waiting on. Arthur had every right to just up and leave! Well, he didn’t know the way back- but he wouldn’t stand for this kind of behavior. He was a prince! He deserved respect, he-!

_He was a prince._ Royalty amongst potential assassins or killers… Who knew what would happen if he dared do something without the protection of his trusty knight?

Arthur risked a glance- what was Alfred doing?

Still winning women over it seemed. Now he was caging her in, hand thrown out beside her head, pressing against the wall of the stall. 

She was giggling, Arthur was fuming.

Just what did Alfred think he was doing? Keeping a prince on hold as he romanced some country bumpkin wench! Arthur couldn’t bite back his gasp as Alfred took her hand, guiding it up to his lips.

The back of his own hand throbbed a bit and Arthur clutched it to his chest, lips downturned. It was foolish of him to think he was the only recipient of such kisses. Rather, it was foolish of him to let a man so unfaithful take him to foreign places. It was already past the time good princes were to be at bed. He was alone, his patience had been drawn thin, there was precisely _one_ uncalled for, unidentifiable bug bite on his elbow and now this-!

“Back, did’ja miss me?”

Certainly not.

When all Alfred got as a reply was a huff, he bit back a smirk, settling next to Arthur to prod what felt like an icy rod against his pouting lips.

“Wh-” Arthur recoiled, throwing a glare in Alfred’s direction to find him grinning. Like he always seemed to be.

“It’s called a popsicle, never had it before?”

No, he hadn’t, but Arthur didn’t feel like replying.

“Aw, did I upset you, Artie?” 

Arthur clenched his jaw. 

“I was flirting around to get this one for free.” Alfred explained with a hidden smile, “I don’t have eyes for anyone else, honest.”

Anyone _else._

Arthur wished he could force down the blood rushing to his cheeks, “I- I don’t care.”

“You do care.” Alfred grinned, scooping Arthur’s hand into his, bringing it up to his lips-

“No!” Arthur snatched it back, “You’re absolutely vile, Alfred, I don’t want your second-hand kisses.”

He found himself gasping only a bit as Alfred gave him an exclusively first-hand peck on the cheek, “Better?”

“I-idiot!”

Biting back any words that could widen the smirk on Alfred’s lips, he tentatively accepted the ‘popsicle’ offered to him. It was a rather big one- Arthur wasn’t sure if he’d like it, much less be able to finish it, but he supposed that wasn’t a problem with Alfred around. The month he’d known him, Alfred seemed to have a talent of finishing meals in minutes.

“Well?”

Arthur crinkled his nose, scrutinizing the ice for a moment before shuddering and letting the tip of his tongue peek out to test the flavor.

Not bad.

“It’s alright,” Arthur admitted, lips closing around the tip with new comfort.

“It’s my favorite.” Alfred beamed before eyeing it hungrily, just as Arthur took another tiny taste. The prince smirked, licking his flavored, numbingly-cold lips. 

“Would you like some?” 

A sharp, enthusiastic nod. Arthur bit back a smile, offering Alfred a lick-

-Before pulling it back just as the knight reached out for a taste. The popsicle was Arthur’s and his alone to claim. Before he could get triumphant on the matter, Alfred had snatched it right out of his hands, brows furrowed in the need for his revenge. Arthur cried out in protest as Alfred gave it a thorough lick, base to tip, “Alfred-!”

“We peasants just really like to share.” Was Alfred’s sly response as he handed the stick back to Arthur. 

Arthur crinkled his nose, “If you think this will deter me in the slightest, you’re wrong.”

“Oh, so you don’t mind my poor-man germs?” 

Arthur shook his head. 

“And you wouldn’t mind if I… let’s say, if I took a lick alongside you?” 

Arthur pursed his lips, “No.” 

Before Alfred could make him hold true to his words, the knight was jumping to his feet and gripping Arthur’s wrist yet again.

The man couldn’t seem to sit still.

Then again, if he had the energy to carry someone down a balcony in these late hours, He supposed Alfred would still be doing cartwheels while Arthur struggled to keep his eyes open.

In fact, it was getting late. Arthur could feel his lids go heavy, lips cold around the tip of his popsicle. Alfred’s shoulder was getting more and more inviting by the second-

“Don’t get sleepy yet, old man.”

Arthur groaned, resisting the urge, however strong it was, to fold into Alfred’s arms and doze off into that strong, warm chest. 

“We’ve got stuff to do, c’mon!”

On any other day, Arthur would’ve protested. He was a prince! There was no ordering him about without a consequence of some sort- yet here he was, Alfred, a knight dragging him this way and that. Arthur told himself that if he were more awake, he’d do something about it. As of now, he was allowing Alfred to put his arm around his waist and-

Wait.

Arthur growled, smacking the arm looped around his waist, “Restrain yourself, Alfred!”

Alfred didn’t respond. He had busied himself with the booth before him, slipping from beside Arthur to instead press a small coin into the booth owner’s palm.

A sign read  _‘1 coin = 3 turns’._

“Three turns at the hammer please.” Alfred tossed Arthur a wink, “I’ll only need one.”

Oh, it seemed to be a strength tester. A strongman game. Beside the booth, a large contraption of a sort stood tall. A panel sat at the base, adorned with a target sign- presumably where the hammer had to strike. The force of the blow would then send a ball spiraling up to the bell at the very top. 

It seemed easy enough. 

Alfred turned to Arthur with a little smirk, “Watch and learn, they don’t teach this in princess school.”

Oh?

Arthur pretended he didn’t notice those biceps bulge under the weight of the hammer. It was rather heavy it seemed. He watched, with folded arms and a roll of his eyes, as Alfred stalked toward the giant contraption, giving it a quick once-over before swinging the hammer over his shoulder and-

-Missing aim, letting it rattle onto the grassy ground.

“W- wait, unfair! It was slippery!”

Arthur was already at the booth, ready for a turn of his own. Granted, the hammer was indeed too heavy for his noodle-arms to carry, but Alfred seemed more than happy to help him with that.

“It’ll be a little too heavy to carry, Artie.” 

Arthur furrowed his brows in irritation, “I’m fine, thank you.”

“As your _obedient servant-”_ Alfred was careful to toss around the word _knight,_ something Arthur was grateful for, “It’s my duty to assist you.”

He plucked the popsicle out of Arthur’s hands, handing it to the stunned booth owner for safekeeping. 

“Is that so?” Alfred’s arms wrapped around him like a scene right out of a romance novel. Arthur could feel that strength radiating off the tanned arms, big warm hands gripping his as they heaved the hammer upright, lips right by his ear- 

“All you have to do is aim, I have the strength down.”

Boy, did he. 

“Watch and learn, they don’t teach you this in knight school,” Arthur said with a breathy laugh. Perhaps they did? It didn’t matter, Arthur was giddy. He was already a master of aim, he was a prince! The numerous archery classes paid off. 

Alfred’s arms guided his into swinging the hammer down-

-Before a swift kiss to Arthur’s neck startled him into missing his target. “A- _Alfred!”_

He could almost hear the smirk in the words that followed, “Guess it’s my turn now.”

Bastard!

A final hammer, a final swing, and _wham._ A solid hit to the target, throwing the ball spiraling up to ring the bell. Alfred whooped, and Arthur watched with a badly-hidden smile as Alfred took the popsicle back, along with claiming the biggest, most-adorned stuffed bear from the shelf. He turned on his heel to nudge it into Arthur’s chest with a dopey grin.

“A bear for his majesty?”

“You’re an idiot.” Arthur accepted it, tucking the bear into the crook of his elbow as he struggled to hold his heavy, melting popsicle. Alfred seemed adamant on spoiling him. “I’m afraid I’ll have to prohibit you from playing any more of these games. You’ll saddle me with stuffed animals trying to win me over with your talent.”

“Tryin’ to?” Alfred chuckled, “Aw, that’s cute. I think you’ve been won over since that rose.”

Arthur hid his face behind the bear, “Oh, shut up, you’re far too cocky.”

Cocky he was, a trait all knights seemed to have. Alfred was different, however. He was tolerable enough. 

He was tolerable, and funny, and strong, and cute- not to mention the endearing glasses on his nose and the twin dimples Arthur came to adore… 

And then it happened, something Arthur never thought he’d come to experience. 

Sparks flew. 

This wasn’t a figure of speech. Arthur by no means meant the feeling of warmth in his stomach whenever Alfred smiled, or the pangs in his heart whenever Alfred would touch him- he could _see_ them. Little flashes of orangey-yellow light, _sparks._ He watched with a gasp, open mouthed, while Alfred watched him, smile melting into an expression of concern, “Arthur, you okay?” 

“I-” 

And then a spark landed on him, his nose, and he yelped, staggering backward as his heart did somersaults. Arthur’s hands were full, there was nothing he could do to swat them away. The dread settled in his chest and he trembled, “Al-!” 

Alfred was laughing at him. If Arthur weren’t scared out of his mind, he would’ve been fuming in anger, but Alfred came to him, hands cupping his face as he laughed some more. “Arthur, have you never seen a firefly before?”

“A firefly?” Arthur echoed, and Alfred grinned, brushing Arthur’s hair against his scalp with warm, calming fingers. 

“Fireflies, lightning bugs..? Come on, Arthur, you’ve never even heard of them?”

Arthur sniffed, suddenly feeling rather foolish. “No.” 

Alfred chuckled, pulling away. His eyes darted around a bit before he found what he was looking for and scooped it right out of the air, cupping his hands shut, “Look.”

He parted his palms and Arthur peered over his bear’s head. 

A firefly. 

It looked like any other insect, save for the glowing backside. Arthur watched as it flew out of Alfred’s hands and weaved through the air. 

“Wanna catch one?”

Arthur nodded enthusiastically, emptying the contents of his hands into Alfred’s arms as he walked about, on the prowl for a spark of his own. 

Alfred watched him with a warm smile, “They say fireflies light up to attract pretty lil’ things such as yourself.” 

“I hardly think it wants to mate me, Alfred.”

“You never know,” Alfred said with a grin, “It’s either that or they’re attractin’ prey.” 

Arthur scooped one out of the air, cupping his hands as tight as he possibly could to keep it from escaping. His heart thundered in his chest. 

“Let’s see it, Artie, you don’t want it to die, now do ya?” Another laugh. Arthur parted his palms in awe, resisting the urge to shake off the little ugly insect until it lit up a luminous orange. It flew away on its own. “There, see? Nothin’ ta be afraid of.”

“Stop babying me,” Arthur replied with a crinkle of his nose. 

Alfred ignored him, “Hell, if you’ve never seen fireflies, I doubt you’ve seen fireworks.”

“I’ve seen fireworks,” Arthur said with a frown. And he had- the occasional burst or two to celebrate his birthday, or one of his parents’. 

Alfred sunk to the ground and Arthur reluctantly followed, remembering it wasn’t his clothes he’d be sullying. His eyes trailed up to the sky and his breath stuck in his throat, “Oh-”

“Never seen a sky?” Alfred joked.

Certainly not one this brilliant- An inky black expanse dotted with glittering swirls of stars, one that could hardly be seen stuck in the four walls of a castle room at night. Arthur found himself smitten, arguably so smitten that he didn’t feel the arm wrap around his middle.

Well, no, he did. Arthur smacked it away, “Are we supposed to be sitting?”

“Yeah, for the fireworks,” Alfred said, as if it was common knowledge. Arthur nodded lamely. All the fireworks he’d ever seen were through the courtyard, standing up. Nevertheless, he found it best not to argue when he clearly knew nothing about the subject. He instead eyed the dewy ground before crinkling his nose.

“We don’t have a blanket.”

“You can always sit on my lap.” Alfred grinned, and Arthur pretended he wasn’t considering the possibility. “Well nah, they hand stuff out if we want.”

A few, fresh-faced little girls skipped along the grass, tossing little, woolen blankets into the outstretched hands that asked for them. Alfred shot Arthur a wink before waving one of them down. By God, even the girls were positively charmed by him. The little thing giggled, shyly pressing the blanket into Alfred’s hands before giving Arthur a stale look and skipping off.

Arthur hated her.

“Relax, Artie.” Alfred chuckled, it was a warm sound. Arthur frowned, watching Alfred stand and throw the blanket out beneath him. “This un’s pretty small, we might hafta scoot in real close.”

Oh dear.

Alfred plopped right onto it, pulling His Highness onto the surprisingly soft fabric. Arthur suppressed a gasp for the umpteenth time that night as he found Alfred’s body startlingly close. Instead of making a noise he’d rather regret, he busied his mouth with his now-melting popsicle.

“Mind if I have some?”

Of course he’d want some. Arthur feigned annoyance before his breath stuck in his throat, those blue eyes were so very close now- lips on opposite sides of a thick slab of flavored ice. Arthur couldn’t find himself pulling away.

Alfred did, in his own special way. A warm hand wrapped around Arthur’s smaller one, tugging the popsicle down until Arthur’s slight frown wasn’t pushing against ice, but rather another pair of equally cold lips.

And yet again, Arthur couldn’t find himself pulling away.

Their kiss tasted like popsicles. Granted it was cold, but Arthur didn’t care. The warm hand cupping his face was enough. Alfred’s lips moved against his and Arthur almost crumpled faint into those arms, _oh stars_ , it was something he’d never felt before-

Or rather, something he hadn’t been allowed to feel before.

Arthur pulled away. “Rest-!”

“I know, _restraint,”_ Alfred said, smiling through what looked like hopeful eyes. He leaned in yet again. 

Arthur’s recoil was sharp, “I can’t, I’m not allowed-”

“Arthur-”

“I’m not allowed.”

Arthur supposed it would’ve remained at that. He was a rather stubborn little prince, as he was told time and time again. Every cell in his body ached for those blue eyes to look at him any other way than the disappointment he was seeing now- back to the warm, loving gaze that made Arthur feel things he’d been told not to feel.

He would’ve sat there, arms folded awkwardly in his lap, as Alfred sat stony to the side, for the remainder of the night until he was back in his bedroom and he’d tell himself he’d never see Alfred again. Perhaps that’s how it might’ve been had it not been for the loud _crack-boom_  of a firework that startled Arthur right back into Alfred’s arms… those toned, _tanned_ arms…

Alfred’s lips seemed warmer this time. They were smirking on his, and any other time Arthur would give that smirk a right smack- but those arms were around him, and they were kissing like they did in novels, or the romantic plays Arthur’s mother would make him watch.

Alfred pulled away. “Arthur, as much as I’m enjoying this, you’ve gotta see these fireworks, they’re-”

Arthur bit back a growl, deciding on throwing one quick glance to the spectacular colors exploding in the sky, before turning and crashing his lips back against Alfred’s, a sensation undoubtedly better than anything fireworks could give him. 

_“Mmph-!”_

Needless to say, Alfred had no other protests.

* * *

“Where to, princess?”

Arthur frowned, kicking his heel lightly against Alfred’s chest in response, “You’re not taking me anywhere else, I’m sleepy.”

Alfred bounced him higher up his back. Pale hands scrambled for a tighter hold, one that didn’t cut Alfred’s air from his lungs. The easier option would’ve been to walk by himself, to save Alfred the trouble of carrying him on his back- but it was Alfred’s fault for tiring Arthur out. He couldn’t walk in a straight line without wanting to crumple to the floor and count sheep.

“Hey, I’m the one carrying you, your _highness_ , you gotta be grateful at least.”

Arthur sniffed, “Alright, I’m grateful. Now take me home.”

“Mm, I think a kiss would show me just how grateful you are.”

Arthur frowned, burying a face red-hot with embarrassment into Alfred’s hair. Soft… “Haven’t you already had enough? Don’t be an idiot.”

Enough was an understatement. They’d grabbed at each other for the entirety of the fireworks show, and the time after, however embarrassing Arthur had imagined it would be, was actually rather fine. 

They’d just held hands and walked on. 

A laugh. Alfred didn’t pick up on the subject further, much to Arthur’s hidden despair. He would’ve given in with a little more persuasion!

“Get down, Artie, we’re home.”

Arthur groaned as he was lowered onto the ground. The sturdy brick castle wall behind him kept him propped up as Alfred disappeared into the bushes, possibly to retrieve the nightgown he’d tucked away there. Arthur would’ve much rather slept in the shirt he was in right now- it wasn’t comfortable, no, but the fact that it was Alfred’s was enough to make it so.

Well, he supposed he could wear the nightgown instead. He was satisfied enough with the warm hands gently unbuttoning his shirt, sliding it off his bared shoulders before pressing the satin gown into his hands.

“Get dressed, Arthur, we gotta get you tucked in bed.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, helping himself into his nightgown as he shimmied out of his trousers beneath it, folding them swiftly before placing them in Alfred’s hands, “I can tuck myself in.”

Arthur didn’t protest the arms that hoisted him over Alfred’s shoulder. His cheeks lit up in embarrassment but the position was prime to conceal it. Alfred gripped a few handy protrusions in the wall here and there, and Arthur’s stomach lurched with every climb, but he found himself back on his windowsill, Alfred just as he was earlier that night- on the other side of it.

“I’ll have to get that wall sanded down.” Arthur pointed out as the quiet sank in.

Alfred’s lips quirked up in a smile, “How else would I get in your room?”

“You won’t need to.” Arthur muttered, “What would we possibly do in my bedroom that we couldn’t do on the field in midday?”

Alfred’s smirk grew with the silence, “I like the way you think.”

_The nerve!_ Arthur’s cheeks burned and he swiftly drew the curtains on Alfred’s face. He couldn’t stand that smirk. “Learn some restraint, good day, sir!”

A chuckle. “Forgetting something, princess?”

Arthur waited a bit, maybe longer, before letting the curtains part tentatively. His eyes fell to the bear Alfred had tucked into his shirt to make it easier to carry.

Well, he supposed as thanks…

A small peck on those smiling lips and Arthur snatched the stuffed animal, careful not to sway Alfred’s position lest he fell. He shut the curtain again, scrambling into his bed and hugging his bear to his chest, pretending he couldn’t hear Alfred’s deep, rich laugh-

Arthur’s dreams held sparks and winking blue eyes.

* * *

“You look tired, love.”

“I had difficulty sleeping.” Arthur murmured, hands smoothing at his suit. Mother had dolled him up at that morning- Arthur had forgotten she’d wanted him to go out and meet people. 

He wasn’t sure if that information would’ve stopped him in any way from sneaking out that night.

“Arthur-”

“I know,” Arthur said, louder this time, _“Don’t murmur.”_

The smile on his mother’s lips was a satisfied one, and Arthur supposed he got that stubborn spark from her. She was adamant on slipping a few, pricey rings onto his fingers- tightening his cravat, fussing over his ever-tousled hair-

Arthur made a noise as a hand smacked the middle of his back, “Fix your posture, Arthur!”

“Yes, mother.”

“Good.” She gripped him like a vice, cold, bony fingers closing around his wrist as she dragged him along down into the courtyard. “When you’re married, these knights will be the ones working with your king, protecting the kingdom.”

Arthur was well-prepared to tune out whatever speech she’d planned on making. That is, until he heard the word _knight._

He was piqued indeed.

_“Pleasure ‘ta meet’cha, your majesty.”_

Arthur’s breath stuck in his throat.

“Isn’t his accent just charming, Arthur? He’s from the country.” His mother gushed. Her eyes then threw a sharp look in his direction, one Arthur often received in the company of important people.

Oh, right.

Arthur offered Alfred his hand, “Quite.”

The hand that gripped his was as warm as it was the night before, and the lips that touched his knuckles were just as endearingly soft. Arthur bit back a smile.

“It’ll be my honor to serve you, my prince.” Another grin. This one held a secret only the two of them could know, “Even if it means accompanying you for the rest of my life.”

Arthur found it hard to restrain himself. “I’d like that very much.”


End file.
